


Exercise in Exhilaration

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [42]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-02
Updated: 2005-03-02
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1819441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke battles Darthmouth at a gym meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exercise in Exhilaration

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For Alex, my friend and beta.  
> Many thanks to Ula for her beta work.

Quinn sat in the stands of the Luke Athletic Center during the first gymnastics meet of the season on home mats. The Skyhawks and Darthmouth Invaders battled it out before him, a fitting warm-up for the Maulers next month.

The Skyhawks' insignia was emblazoned upon a banner of cream and brown on one wall of the gym, the athletes wearing matching uniforms, the equipment glinting like glaciers in a sea of blue matting. Darthmouth's burgundy and black seemed out of place amid the sand and seascape.

The building was kept cool for the benefit of the athletes, even though the spectators needed sweaters on this last Saturday in February. Chalk dusted the air, lazily drifting along the currents, remarkably similar to the stretch by the blackboard in Quinn's classrooms. A current of electric excitement buzzed through the gym, building with each rotation.

Quinn thought of it as a testosterone testing ground, with all the high-fiving and metaphorical chest-thumping. He wondered what the sociology department would make of it.

Gymnasts, officials, assistant and head coaches milled about the six apparati, the sound level high, spiking for successful Luke routines. Coach Rance was always at the center of a vortex of activity, a gleam in his eye seen only on meet days.

Quinn, of course, had been subtly tracking Ian across the gym. He wore Team Hawk sweats and an earnest expression as he assessed the floor routine of an impossibly young-looking sophomore. Even to Quinn's untrained eye, the tumbling passes had seemed shaky. As Quinn watched, Ian clapped the student on his shoulder with a parting grin. Trust Ian, Quinn thought warmly, to deliver needed criticism, yet make sure the student walked away smiling.

Quinn's musings drifted to what he and Ian had done on those mats during their private Saturday night sessions in the gym. A workout with Ian, whether aikido or gymnastics, roused more than Quinn's athleticism. He had especially enjoyed Ian's handstands, when he'd wrapped his arms around Ian's legs and 'danced' across the mat with him.

The next rotation was parallel bars, and Quinn looked on with pride as the men donned their Hawk armguards. Ian had mentioned a bit of pre-season controversy about this equipment. Rance hadn't ordered the guards, considering them unnecessary; Ian had countered with photographs of abraded and infected wounds on gymnasts' upper arms. The coach changed his mind, and the armguards had arrived with the season.

Luke was behind by five hundredths of a point now; Quinn watched Ian and Rance rallying the troops for battle with Darthmouth. Ian had the fire in his eyes Quinn so loved to see; he looked almost as wild as he had in the bedroom that morning. Who could resist his exhortations?

The Luke p-bar routines were packed with big tricks, so their start values were higher than Darthmouth's. Pirouettes, handstands, rolls, and stuck landings enabled the Skyhawks to pull ahead. Quinn saw Ian exchange high fives with half the team. His adrenalin surged just from watching them.

The next apparatus was the vaulting platform. Quinn had been there the first time Ian had tried it in practice; when he'd anchored the Jedai squad, they'd still been using the horse. Ian had raved about the new wider surface and smarter design. After a few tries, he'd even bettered his collegiate form.

Fans and coaches were roaring for the team to increase their lead on this event. The men had only one vault apiece, not the two allotted to women, so they had to make them count. A high degree of difficulty in the somersaults and twists kept them slightly ahead of the Invaders.

Unfortunately, Ian had to tend to a student's twisted ankle between rotations. Quinn watched as he expertly taped it, no doubt distracting the gymnast with a joke while doing so.

High bar was what everyone had been waiting for; Quinn sat up in his chair as he heard the cheering increase around him. Luke hit every routine, save for one dropped score, a 9.05. The last performance would determine the victor.

When he saw Ian lift the athlete up to the bar, muscles straining briefly, Quinn's mouth went dry. He remembered doing this for Ian, ribs under his fingers, waist sliding by his palms. Those palms would be useless for the task at the moment, coated as they were with a fine sheen of sweat.

Ian's strength was on full display before him. That night, those arms would be wrapped around Quinn, taking him higher too. Quinn's mouth grew even drier.

Quinn signalled to a passing 'Hawker' for a cup of raspberry vitamin water, sipping it gratefully while he cooled down. He tried not to stare at Ian as he spotted the gymnast.

The boy started his swings and one-arm giants, gaining momentum fast. The release move in his routine went smoothly, and he stuck the dismount. Quinn breathed out a relieved sigh; he thought that gymnastics was fast becoming an extreme sport, one almost too dangerous for the youngsters involved. Coaches like Ian reassured him; he knew the time Ian spent on incremental teaching to keep things safe.

With that exercise, the meet was over, Luke barely edging out Darthmouth. Cheers thundered through LAC, and Ian was lost in a throng of jubilant gymnasts. Quinn, who had always rooted for the Luke squads, was even more delighted now that his lover would reap the glory. He drove home listening to WLUK's post-meet coverage; they'd taken two cars since Ian was in conference with Rance.

Ian walked in a couple of hours after Quinn, exhilaration lighting his eyes. Quinn dove in for a hug, and felt his lover relax against him.

"Congratulations!" A kiss on Ian's brow. "Good job, Coach." Another on the bridge of his nose.

Ian beamed up at him. "Thanks, Quinn. The kids were great today."

"As were their coaches." Quinn nipped Ian's nearer earlobe. "What's your pleasure now, lad?"

"Well," said Ian in his most tantalizing drawl, "I seem t'have worked up a wee bit of extra energy today." Ian tasted Quinn's right cheek with the tip of his tongue. "Any ideas on what to do with it?"

Quinn's roguish grin was answer enough as he pulled Ian into the bedroom. When Quinn took off Ian's sweatshirt, he rubbed his cheek over Ian's chest, inhaling his spicy, sweaty scent. Quinn licked his way back along that delectable path.

"Oh, yeah," Ian said, breathing faster already as his fingers clenched in Quinn's hair.

Midnight blue eyes undressed Ian, fingers following the same route, while Ian freed Quinn from his sweats. The same hands that had made lifting a man look easy were now roaming over Quinn's stomach, knowing just where to touch for maximum pleasure. They vaulted onto the bed, Ian rolling them into perfect alignment, until need and sport deepened into the outpouring of their love.


End file.
